Thursday, November 25, 2010

Thank You

As I have said many times in this blog, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, not because of the abundance of food or the overindulgence in it, but for its sincerity. It doesn't demand vast sums of money from us, or hours shopping and hunting for gifts, it doesn't require costumes, exploding rockets or flowers and cards designed and written by others because we lack the imagination or courage to express our own words. It doesn't matter if we have a table full of food or if we are surrounded by a room full of people. Thanksgiving asks only that we pause and acknowledge the bounties and blessings of life. So that is what I'm going to do.

Among many other things, this year I am thankful for

Mom and Kevin, who traveled from home to be with me this year, braving icy roads and treacherous winds to fly to Denver.

good health: my own, as well as that of Duncan and the cats, my family and friends and the people I love.

my new job. After eight and a half years in a job I was ill-suited for, and which made me miserable, I am lucky to have found a job I enjoy surrounded by wonderful people.

the paths and trails, winding around the park and lake, across the foothills, into the mountains, and all the places Duncan and I have walked together, discovering new things, celebrating old things, and enjoying the silent details of the world around us.

my sister and her fiance, Chris, who asked me to officiate at their wedding next summer. It touched me deeply when they told me they wanted my words to be the words that united them in marriage and bound their lives together.

Nutella. 'Nuff said.

the gentle hum of Pip's purr as he sleeps on my shoulder, the soft weight of Winnie on my hip each night and the voice of Olive when she greets me in the morning and asks me in that cat way of hers how I slept.

The song "Feelin' Good," as performed by the amazing Nina Simone.

The return of April to my life. Her appearance last summer was sudden and miraculous, and although she doesn't reply to emails as quickly as I'd like and lives too far away, she is immaculate and untouchable.

Edgar, my Kindle, and Lori and Tom, who sent him to me for no reason and reminded me of the innate goodness and generosity of people and their willingness to indulge me when I refuse to indulge myself.

the sound of Dunc snoring.

The Moth podcast, which makes me laugh and cry, sometimes all at once, and always leaves me breathless with anticipation for more.

"The Last Dream of the Old Oak," the last story read to my grandmother before she passed away last year, and my father for sharing it with us at her memorial service.

the silence of butterflies and the music of wind chimes.

Status updates, which make me laugh, think and remember all the people I have shared a path with in my life.

Lisa, my sidekick, who is not evil but tries so very hard to be.

Two little punctuation makes, which, when put together say so much, the colon and the closing parenthesis.

The "It Gets Better" Project and Dan Savage for his work at encouraging gay youth to hang in there and realize the full potential of their lives.

Eggnog and Pumpkin Spice lattes.

the poetry of Mary Oliver, the prose of Tom Spanbauer and the magnificence of the written word.

the voice of Mrs. Wheeland, who says, "Hello, Curt" every time she answers the telephone.

my friends, who share their triumphs and tragedies, open their hearts, lean on me when they need to and allow me to lean on them in return.

the holidays, which mean more to me than the insanity of Black Friday shopping.

a warm bath, a good book, and three cats who perch on the edge of the tub and watch over me protectively.

Chris and Troy Denike, who I don't get to visit with enough, but always manage to run into when I'm crossing Bowles with Duncan. Whether they stop and talk or merely honk, wave and holler as they speed past us, they remind me that somehow I have carved out a life for myself here in Denver, the sort that offers sudden and unexpected visits with people I enjoy being with.

Jupiter, which has been high in the sky these past several months, giving me something to marvel at on our evening walks.

the little bird which built a home outside my door and stayed for the summer.

Tired Old Queen at the Movies, The Sassy Gay Friend, Dropbox, Skype and Bejeweled Blitz, which make the internet worthwhile.

Ken, who tells me he loves me each and every time we talk on the phone.

and, as always, A.A. Milne, who wrote, "And by and by Christopher Robin came to the end of things, and he was silent, and he sat there, looking out over the world, just wishing it wouldn't stop."

About Me

Rarely do I watch the news because most days I'm frantically trying to keep up on all my podcasts. This does not, however, mean I'm ignorant of current events or soft on my opinions. I spend a lot of time on the phone talking to faraway voices or walking with Duncan, wrestling with Duncan, playing fetch with Duncan, feeding and cleaning up after Duncan. Sometimes I knit, sometimes I don't. I went to school at Lake Forest College, in Lake Forest, Illinois--the worst most beautiful town I've ever set foot in. I grew up in Pocatello, Idaho, a city cursed twice: first, by a Shoshone Bannock chief; and second by a rather large population of small-minded people who like to pretend they know what they're doing. I'm a recovering Idahoan but have never been weighed down by a real addiction, such as drugs, booze or religion.